Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the Online DistributedProofreading Team.

PUNCH,

OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

VOL. 99.

December 27, 1890.

[Illustration: 'DRESSED-CRAB']

* * * * *

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

The origin of the phrase, _Le Coup de Jarnac_, is interesting, andthe story is well told by Mr. _MAC_DOWALL in Mac_millan's Magazine_.Good, this, for "The Two Macs."

[Illustration]

In _The Argosy_, edited by Mr. CHARLES WOOD, there are two good mostseasonable Ghost Stories, by CHARLES W. WOOD, the "Rev. F.O.W." Thefirst is not new, as there is a similar legend attached to several oldManor Houses, one of a Sussex Family House, the Baron had first-hand,from a witness on the premises. It lacked corroboration at the time,and is likely to do so.

The Letters passing between a fine young English Cantab, "all of themodern style," and his family at home, are uncommonly amusing. _HarryFludyer at Cambridge_ is the title of the book, published by CHATTOAND WINDUS. Well, to quote the ancient witticism in vogue _temporeEDOUARDI RECTI et DON PAOLO BEDFORDI_ (the great Adelphoi, or ratherthe great "Fill-Adelphians," as they were once called), "Things iswerry much as they used to was" at Cambridge, and University life ofto-day differs very little from that of yesterday, or the day before,or the day before that. "_Haec olim meminisse juvabit_," when, half acentury hence, the rollicking author of these letters--which, by theway, first appeared in _The Granta_--is telling his _Minimus_ what "adog," he, the writer, was, and what "a day he used to have," in themerry time that's past and gone. "His health and book!" quoth theBaron.

A more muddle-headed story than _The Missing Member_ I have not readfor some considerable time.

The Baron sends HACHETTE & CIE.'S "_Mon Premier Alphabet_," and themoral tale of "_Mlle. Marie Sans-souci_," up to the nursery where theywill be much appreciated by the little Barons.

"LETT's get a Diary," quoth a Barren Jester, not _the_ Baron DE B.W.,who, had it not been Christmas time, would have expelled the wittyyouth. "No joke, if you please," quoth he, "about LETTS's Diaries. Wemay advertise these useful and hardy annuals in canine Latin and say,'_Libera nos_!' i.e., Letts out!"

BARON DE BOOK-WORMS & Co.

_P.S._ I have it on the best authority that Mrs. SUTHERLAND EDWARDS,Author of _The Secret of the Princess; a Tale of Country, Camp, Court,Convict, and Cloister Life in Russia_, is about to produce a highlysensational work, entitled _The Bargain of the Barmaid; a Story ofClaret, Cheese, Coffee, Cognac, and Cigar Life in London_.

* * * * *

CINDERELLA; FIN DE SIECLE.

(_A FAIRY TALE FOR CHRISTMAS._)

The Lady Help was busy at her domestic duties when her Godmotherknocked at the kitchen-door, and entered.

"Alas, poor CINDERELLA!" said the Fairy, in a compassionate tone, "andso your stepmother and sisters have gone to the Prince's ball, andleft you to cleanse the pots and pans?"

"Thank you," returned her God-daughter; "I am perfectly well satisfiedto be left with my books. As a matter of fact, dances bore me."

And she carelessly glanced at some mathematical works that she hadused when cramming for the Senior Wranglership.

"Quite out of date," interrupted CINDERELLA. "I presume you intend toturn the pumpkin into a great coach, and so forth. Eh?"

"Well," admitted the Fairy, taken aback, "ye-es."

"Quite so. Believe me, the idea is distinctly old-fashioned. Prayunderstand, I don't say you can't do it. Nowadays, with EDISON andKOCH, it would be dangerous to suggest that anything was impossible.No, I merely object to travel in a conveyance that will naturally beredolent of the odours of the kitchen garden, and to be driven by acoachman derived from a rodent."

"But this objection is contrary to precedent," urged the Fairy. "Youought to express unbounded delight, and then depart in your carriagewith the greatest _eclat_ possible."

"You are most kind, but, if I am to do anything of _that_ sort, Iwould prefer leaving the matter in the hands of Mr. Sheriff AUGUSTUSHARRIS who thoroughly understands the entire business."

"It seems to me," said the Fairy, "you are very ungrateful. But surelyyou want a magnificent costume?"

"Thanks, no; I get everything from Paris."

"And you think of the feelings of your _modiste_, and ignore thoseof your poor old (but well-preserved) Godmother!" And the Fairy wasnearly moved to tears.

"Oh, I did not mean to pain you!" exclaimed CINDERELLA. "Stay, my dearLady, do you believe in hypnotism? No? Well, I do, and exercise it.Pardon me!"

And as she made a few passes, the Fairy sank into a mesmeric trance.Then, CINDERELLA desired that her Godmother should imagine that shehad been the heroine of a Fairy Story.

"Dear me," cried the now-satisfied dame, as she regainedconsciousness; "and so you went to the ball, lost your slipper, andmarried the Prince?"

"That was the impression I wished to convey to you. And now, my dear,good Lady, I am afraid I must ask you to leave me."

And as the Fairy disappeared, CINDERELLA resumed her self-imposedtasks of making an omelette and squaring the circle.

Mr. GILL objected to Sir CHARLES RUSSELL's yawning in Court; but heforgot that a Queen's Counsel of Sir CHARLES's standing and reputationhas a right to "open his mouth" pretty wide.

* * * * *

THE KNELL OF HOME RULE.--Par-nell.

* * * * *

[Illustration: A PARLIAMENTARY PANTOMIME OPENING.

(_Seasonable Suggestion to Augustus Druriolanus._)]

* * * * *

BETWEEN THE LEAVES;

OR, HOW TO LET IN THE ADVERTISERS NEATLY.

CHAPTER LXVII.

The fair girl stepped lightly into the room, and, having daintilyremoved the dust from her feet by wiping them on one of BIGLOW ANDSONS' Patent Crocodile Matting Rugs (delivered carriage free within aradius of twelve miles of their establishment at Ludgate Circus) thatwas placed before the door, gave a hasty glance round the apartment.She saw at ones from the octagonal ebonised table three feet six, bytwo feet five inches, the afternoon lounge couch (as advertised), thegent's easy shake-down chair, ladies ditto, and half dozen occasionalchairs, all upholstered in rich material in Messrs. MULGRAVE & Co. of170, Walbrook, City, E.C.'s best style, that a refined taste inspiredby a wholesome economy had been exercised in the furnishing of theapartment, and she turned to the old Duke with a grateful nod ofrecognition.

"What," he asked, in a feeble voice, "is it my own ANGELICA? Surely itis! Come, my child, let me look at you?" He turned up the burner ofa BOYCOTLE's Patent Incandescent Gas Lamp (price 13s. 9d. with fullpaper of instructions complete), and as he stood erect in his richcalico-lined fox-fur dressing-gown (supplied in three qualities byBROHAM & Co, with a discount of 15 per cent. for cash), he looked,every foot of him, a worthy scion of that ancient family of which hewas the last living representative. "Let me look at you," he againrepeated, drawing his neatly-dressed granddaughter more fully into thelight before him. As it fell upon the graceful curves of her lissomfigure, it was easy to perceive that she was wearing one of MadameBEAUMONT's celebrated Porcupine Quill Corsets, which lent a wonderfulfinish to a two-guinea tailor-made gingham cloth "Gem" costume,braided with best silk (horn buttons included), which showed off heryoung form to such advantage.

He would have added more, but a sudden pallor stole over hiscomplexion, and he reeled towards a chair.

In an instant the bright girl was on her knees at his side. "DearGrandfather, you are faint!" she cried, an expression of alarmsuffusing her beautiful features.

The Duke pointed to a small table--"My Liquid Pork!" he gasped. "Ah!of course!" was her quick response, as she bounded across the room,and returned with an eleven-and-sixpenny bottle of "BOLKIN'sLiquid Pork, or, the Emaciated Invalid's Hog-wash"--a stimulating,flesh-creating, life-sustaining food; sold in bottles at 1s. 11/2d.,2s. 9d., 5s. 7d., and 11s. 6d.,--of which she quickly poured out halfa tumbler, and raised it to the quivering lips of the staggering oldnobleman by her side. "How foolish of me not to have thought of thisbefore!" she continued, replenishing the glass, which he emptied infeverish haste.

"I save threepence-halfpenny in a sovereign," he went on, awicked twinkle kindling in his eye as he spoke, "by taking theeleven-and-sixpenny size--and that _is_ a consideration, my dear. Ifyou don't think so now, with all your young life before you, you willwhen you come to be my age!"

[Illustration]

He sank back in his arm-chair as he spoke, apparently about to deliverhimself to the calm delights of a retrospective _reverie_. But he wasnot destined to enjoy it. At that moment a whiff of stifling smoke,quite choking in its intensity, forced itself under the door. Inanother moment the matter was soon explained. With a wild rush thebutler burst into the room.

"Fly, your Grace, for your life!" he cried; "the place is on fire!"

A blaze of flame that followed the terrified menial into the room,only too truly corroborated his statement. In a another moment thefire had seized hold of the new furniture, and in greedy fury, asif it were some demon spirit, licked the walls with great tongues offlame.

"In the cupboard, my dear," said the Duke, the proud blood of hisrace coming to his aid in a perfect and commanding coolness in theface of the terrible danger that faced him, "you will find three cansof JOBSON's Patent Fire Annihilating Essence. It is advertised asinfallible. Give one to the butler, take one yourself, and give thethird to me. This appears to be a good opportunity for testing itsefficacy."

The quick bright girl instantly obeyed his injunction. The cans weredistributed, and opened. A colourless gas was liberated. In a fewseconds the flames were entirely quenched.

"Ah!" said the old Duke, flinging himself back into his armchair witha sigh of relief. "And now, ANGELICA, my dear, you can tell me why youcame to see me!"

* * * * *

[Illustration: A FAIR WARNING.

"DADDY, I WANT YOU TO GIVE ME FIVE SHILLINGS A WEEK POCKET-MONEY!"

"I COULDN'T DO IT, MY LITTLE CHAP. IT'S TOO MUCH!"

"WELL, I MUST HAVE IT. IF YOU WON'T, I SHALL GO AND BET!']

* * * * *

THEORY AND PRACTICE.

(_TO BE REPRESENTED DURING THE PERFORMANCE OF THE CHRISTMASPANTOMIME._)

SCENE--_Interior of Private Box. Grandfather and Grandchildren discovered listening to the Overture. Father and Mother in attendance._

_Grandfather_. Yes, my dears, I am glad to say that the afterpart is_not_ to be discontinued. You are to see the Clown, and the Pantaloon,and the Columbine, and the Harlequin.

[Illustration: Peg-Top after seeing a Pantomime.]

_Chorus of Grandchildren_. Oh! Oh, won't that be delicious!

_Grandfather_. Yes, my dears, you will see the regular old-fashionedcomic business that used to delight _me_ when _I_ was a boy. Iremember when I was about your age, my dears, seeing TOM MATHEWS, andit was _so_ amusing. He used to sing a song--

_Chorus_ (_interrupting as the Curtain rises_). Hush, Grandpa! it'sgoing to begin! (_The party subside, and direct their attention totwenty sets or so of the most magnificent scenery, illustrated bygorgeous Processions. The hands of the clock revolve, leaving Eightand reaching Eleven, when Grand Transformation takes place, amidstvarious coloured fires. Then enter_ Old Christmas Clown.)

_Old Christmas Clown_. Here we are again! How are you to-morrow?

_Chorus of Children_. Oh, we are _so_ tired! And we have heard thatbefore!

_Mother_. And I am afraid we shall miss our train.

_Father_. And the roads are _so_ bad!

_Grandfather_. Well, well, perhaps we had better go; but in my time weall used to enjoy it _so_ much. (_Aside._) And perhaps, after all, thered-hot poker business _is_ rather stale at the end of the NineteenthCentury!

[_Exeunt the Party, plus five-sixths of the Audience._

* * * * *

VOCES POPULI.

A CHRISTMAS ROMP.

SCENE--_Mrs. CHIPPERFIELD's Drawing-room. It is after the Christmas dinner, and the Gentlemen have not yet appeared. Mrs. C. is laboriously attempting to be gracious to her Brother's Fiancee, whose acquaintance she has made for the first time, and with whom she is disappointed. Married Sisters and Maiden Aunts confer in corners with a sleepy acidity._

_First Married Sister_ (_to Second_). I felt quite sorry for FRED,to see him sitting there, looking--and no wonder--so ashamed ofhimself--but I always will say, and I always _must_ say, CAROLINE,that if you and ROBERT had been _firmer_ with him when he was younger,he would never have turned out so badly! Now, there's my GEORGE--&c.,&c.

[Illustration]

_Mrs. C._ (_to the Fiancee_). Well, my dear, I don't approve of youngmen getting engaged until they have some prospects of being able tomarry, and dear ALGY was always my favourite brother, and I've seen somuch misery from long engagements. However, we must hope for the best,that's all!

_A Maiden Aunt_ (_to Second Ditto_). Exactly what struck _me_, MARTHA._One_ waiter would have been quite sufficient, and if JAMES _must_be grand and give champagne, he might have given us a little _more_of it; I'm sure I'd little more than foam in _my_ glass! And everyplate as cold as a stone, and you and I the only people who were notconsidered worthy of silver forks, and the children encouraged tobehave as they please, and JOSEPH PODMORE made such a fuss with,because he's well off--and not enough sweetbread to go the round. Ah,well, thank goodness, we needn't dine here for another year!

_Mr. Chipperfield_ (_at the door_). Sorry to cut you short in yourcigar, Uncle, and you LIMPETT; but fact is, being Christmas night, Ithought we'd come up a little sooner and all have a bit of a romp....Well, EMILY, my dear, here we are, all of us--ready for anythingin the way of a frolic--what's it to be? Forfeits, games, Puss inthe Corner, something to cheer us all up, eh? Won't anyone make asuggestion? [_General expression of gloomy blankness._

_Algernon_ (_to his Fiancee--whom he wants to see shine_). ZEFFIE,you know no end of games--what's that one you played at home, withpotatoes and a salt-spoon, _you_ know?

_Mr. C._ Uncle JOSEPH will set us going, I'm sure--what do _you_ say,Uncle?

_Uncle Joseph_. Well, I won't say "no" to a quiet rubber.

_Mrs. C._ But, you see, we can't _all_ play in that, and there _is_ apack of cards in the house somewhere; but I know two of the aces aregone, and I don't think all the court cards were there the last timewe played. Still, if you can manage with what is left, we might get upa game for you.

_Uncle J._ (_grimly_). Thank you, my dear, but, on the whole, I thinkI would almost rather romp--

_Mr. C._ Uncle JOSEPH votes for romping! What do you say to DumbCrambo? Great fun--half of us go out, and come in on all-fours, torhyme to "cat," or "bat," or something--_you_ can play that, LIMPETT?

_Mr. Limpett_. If I _must_ find a rhyme to cat, I prefer, so soonafter dinner, not to go on all-fours for it, I confess.

_Mr. Limpett_. Well, as we've all got pencils, is there any reason whythe revelry should not commence?

_Mr. C._ No--don't let's waste any more time. Miss ZEFFIE says shewill write down on the top of her paper "Who met whom" (must be a Ladyand Gentleman in the party, you know), then she folds it down, andpasses it on to the next, who writes, "What he said to her"--the next,"What she said to him"--next, "What the consequences were," and thelast, "What the world said." Capital game--first-rate. Now, then!

[_The whole party pass papers in silence from one to another, and scribble industriously with knitted brows._

_Mr. C._ Time's up, all of you. I'll read the first paper aloud.(_Glances at it, and explodes._) He-he!--this is really very funny.(_Reads._) "Uncle JOSEPH met Aunt CAROLINE at the--ho--ho!--theEmpire! He said to her, '_What are the wild waves saying?_' and shesaid to him, 'It's time you were taken away!' The consequences werethat they both went and had their hair out, and the world said theyhad always suspected there was something between them!"

_Uncle J._ I consider that a piece of confounded impertinence!

[_Puffs._

_Aunt C._ It's not true. I _never_ met JOSEPH at the Empire. Idon't go to such places. I _didn't_ think I should be insulted likethis--(_Weeps._)--on Christmas too!

_Aunts' Chorus_. FRED _again_!

[_They regard Family Failure indignantly._

_Mr. C._ There, then, it was all fun--no harm meant. I'll read thenext. "Mr. LIMPETT met Miss ZEFFIE in the Burlington Arcade. Hesaid to her, 'O, you little duck!' She said to him, 'Fowls are cheapto-day!' The consequences were that they never smiled again, and theworld said, 'What price hot potatoes?'" (_Everybody looks depressed._)H'm--not bad--but I think we'll play something else now. [_ZEFFIEperceives that ALGY is not pleased with her._

[_Later; the Company are playing "Hide the Thimble;" i.e., someone has planted that article in a place so conspicuous that few would expect to find it there. As each person catches sight of it, he or she sits down. Uncle JOSEPH is still, to the general merriment, wandering about and getting angrier every moment._

_The Children_. Then you're _cheating_, Uncle--you must go on walkingtill you _do_ see it!

_Uncle J._ Oh, that's it, eh? Very well, then--I'll walk!

[_Walks out, leaving the company paralysed._

_Mrs. C._ Run after him, TOMMY, and tell him--quick! [_Exit TOMMY._

_Mr. C._ (_feebly_). I think when Uncle JOSEPH does come back, we'dbetter try to think of some game he _can't_ lose his temper at. Ah,here's TOMMY!

_Tommy_. I _told_ him--but he went all the same, and slammed the door.He said I was to go back and tell you that you would find he _was_ cutup--and cut up rough, too!

_Mrs. C._ But what did you tell _him_?

_Tommy_. Why, only that Parpar asked him to come to-night because hewas sure to cut up well. You said I might!

[_Sensation; Prompt departure of TOMMY for bed; moralising by Aunts; a spirit of perfect candour prevails; names are called--also cabs; further hostilities postponed till next Christmas._

* * * * *

NOTE-PAPER CURRENCY AT CHRISTMAS.--We see that a "Riparian" note-paperhas been brought out by Messrs. GOODALL AND SON. This "RiparianPaper"--rather suggestive of "Rupee Paper"--ought to be as safe as theBank. "G. AND SON" (this suggests G.O.M. and Master HERBERT) shouldbring out The Loyers' Note-paper, and call it "Papier Mashy."

* * * * *

BLACK AND WHITE; OR, THE PHANTOM STEED!

(_A TYPICAL GHOST STORY FOR CHRISTMAS, BY A WITNESS OF THE TRUTH._)

[Illustration]

I was walking in one of the slums in the neighbourhood of OxfordStreet, some years ago, and always fond of horse-flesh (I haddriven--as a boy--a bathing-machine for my pleasure along the wildcoast line of the great Congo Continent) was greatly attracted bya hack standing within the shafts of a cart belonging to a funeralfurnisher. Like many of its class, the horse was jet black, with along flowing tail and a mane to match. As I gazed upon the creaturethe driver came out of the shop (to which doleful establishment theequipage belonged) and drove slowly away. I felt forced to follow, andsoon found myself outside a knacker's yard. Guessing the intention ofthe driver to treat his steed as only fit for canine food, I offeredto purchase the seemingly doomed animal. To my surprise, the manexpressed his willingness to treat with me, and suggested that I mighthave the carcase at the rate of 4s. 113/4d. a pound. Considering theprice not excessive, I agreed, and, having weighed the horse at anautomatic weighing machine, I handed over L100--in notes. Then thefirst strange thing happened. Before I could replace my pocket-book inits receptacle in my coat, the driver had absolutely vanished! I couldnot see him anywhere. I was the more annoyed at this, as I found that(by mistake) I had given him notes on the Bank of Elegance, whicheveryone knows are of less value than notes on the Bank of England.However, it was too late to search for the vendor, and I walkedaway as I could, leading by the bridle the steed I had so recentlyacquired.

It was now necessary to get quarters for the night, but I found, atthat advanced hour, that many of the leading hotels were either fullor unwilling to supply me with a bedroom-and-stable-combined until themorning. I was refused firmly but civilly at the Grand, the Metropole,the Grosvenor, and the Pig and Whistle Tavern, South East Hackney.At the latter caravanserai, the night-porter (who was busying himselfcleaning the pewter pots) suggested that I should go to Bath.Adopting this idea, I mounted my steed (which answered, after a littlepractice, to the name of _Cats'-meat_), and took the Old Kent Roaduntil I reached St. Albans.

[Illustration: Everything comes to him who _waits_.]

It was now morning, and the old abbey stood out in grand outlineagainst the glorious scarlet of the setting sun. Entering an inn,I called for refreshment for man and beast, and, having authorityfor considering myself qualified to act as representative of both,consumed the double portion. Thinking about the whiskey I had justdiscussed, as I rode along, I came to a milestone, standing on itshead, and a sign-post in the last stage of hopeless intoxication. Itwas here that a police constable turned his lantern upon me with apertinacity that apparently was calculated to challenge observation.Annoyed, but not altogether surprised, I declared my opinion that itwas "all right," and fell asleep. When I awoke, I found that I hadtravelled some hundreds of miles, and, strange to say, my horse was asgood as when it had started. From what I could gather from the signson the road (I have been accustomed to Forestry from my earliestchildhood), it seemed to me that, while I was slumbering, I musthave passed Macclesfield, Ramsgate, Richmond (both in Surrey andin Yorkshire), and was now close to the weirdest spot in allphantom-populated Wiltshire--a place in its rugged desolationsuggestive of the Boundless Prairies and BUFFALO BILL--Wild-Westbury!Greatly fatigued, I entered a second inn, and enjoyed a hearty meal,which was also a simple one. I am a liquidarian, and take no animalor vegetable food, and have not tasted fish for nearly a quarter of acentury.

When I wished to continue my journey to Bath, I found _Cats'-meat_so disinclined to move, that I thought the best thing to do in theinterest of progress, was to carry him myself. He was very light--solight that I imagined the automatic weighing-machine must have beenout of order when I tested it. Almost in a trance I walked along,until, stumbling, I fell, and dropped _Cats'-meat_ into a well. Andthen another strange thing happened. The horse with its jet-black tailand mane, emerged from the water as white as snow! Apparently annoyedat the treatment to which it had been accidentally subjected, itfled away, and I lost sight of it amongst the hills that overlookWild-Westbury. And then the strangest thing of all happened, and hasbeen happening ever since!

[Illustration: Interesting to the Medical Profession. "The AnnualIndigest."]

In clear weather, on the side of one of these hills, _Cat's-meat_, inthe habit as he stood when he left the well on that fatal day, maybe seen patiently waiting until the time shall arrive when he shallreceive a coat of blacking, a companion steed to share with him hislabours, and a hearse! I am not the only person who has seen him thus.The spectre (if it be a spectre) is known for miles around, and hasbeen watched by thousands. Nay, more. On occasions of great rejoicing,when merry-making has been the order of the day or night, several_Cats'-meats_ have appeared to the carousing watchers strangelyblended together. Speaking for myself, if I have seen one I have seenhalf-a-dozen--nay, more--with hills to match! And those who do notbelieve me can continue the journey I once commenced, and (afterI have wished them a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year) proceedto--Bath!

* * * * *

CHRISTMAS "CRACKERS."

Plum-pudding never disagrees with me, _however much I take of it_.No more do mince-pies, _no matter how many I eat_. Steaminghot-and-strong gin-punch is _the most wholesome beverage_; so,also, is brandy-punch. It can't harm anybody who, on the Pickwickianprinciple, "takes enough of it." Both beverages go admirably withcigars and pipes. If you have anything like a headache on Boxing-daymorning, depend upon it, it comes from abstemiousness in drinking,eating, and smoking.

* * * * *

[Illustration: SUGGESTION FOR PICTORIAL DIRECTORY.

"Hide Pa Corner."

Eatin' Plaice.]

* * * * *

LITERARY AND DRAMATIC.--It is now generally known, and, if not, itis high time it should be, that _A Million of Money_, advertised asoriginal, is only an instance of genuine "translation" from OldDrury Lane to Covent Garden, where it ought to continue its previoussuccess.

* * * * *

SHAKSPEARE AT YULETIDE.--Excellent arrangements at the Lyceum forChristmas. Genial _Ravenswood_ is to be performed only on a Friday.For the rest,--no not "the rest" where so much work is involved,--for"the remainder" of the week, the Master of the Shakespearian Revelsgives us _Much Ado About Nothing_, with our ELLEN and HENRY as_Beatrice_ and _Benedick_, and with all its memorable glory of costumeand scenery,--a Shakspearian revival well worthy to be reckoned asamong the foremost of all the attractions offered by the theatres thisChristmas.

* * * * *

[Illustration: CHRISTMAS EVE AT THE MOATED GRANGE.

_Emily_ (_in the midst of Aunt Marianna's blood-curdlingGhost Story_). "HUSH! LISTEN! THERE'S A DOOR BANGING SOMEWHEREDOWNSTAIRS!--AND YET THE SERVANTS HAVE GONE TO BED. GEORGE, DO JUSTRUN DOWN AND SEE WHAT IT CAN BE!"

[_George wishes himself back at Charterhouse._]]

* * * * *

"KEEP THE POT A-BOILING!"

(_A SEASONABLE SUGGESTION._)

Christmas comes once more, Well-beloved Old Father! Though the season's hoar, Warm his welcome--rather! Parties come and go, True to _him_ our heart is, With his beard of snow, Best of (Christmas) Parties! Say the day is chill, Say the weather's windy, He brings warm good-will, Not heart-freezing shindy. "Union!" is his cry,-- Hearts and hands and voices. Confraternity His kind soul rejoices. When the youngsters slide On the frozen river. As they glow and glide, Do they shrink or shiver? Nay; nor dread nor doubt Their brisk sport is spoiling, Gleefully they shout, "Keep the Pot a-boiling!"

Keep it? Ay, by Jove! We are on our mettle. 'Tis a game we love More than Pot and Kettle. Poorish sport that same, Angry mutual blackening. Here's a merrier game. Pull up there! Who's slackening? Not the leader, _Punch_! On he goes, amazing, To the rest his hunch Like a beacon blazing. Not Old Father X! How the Ancient goes it! 'Tis a sight to vex Malice, and he knows it; Not young Master BULL! At the game _he_'s handy, Nor has much the pull Of his pal, young SANDY; Not that dark-eyed girl With her cloak a-flying, She can swing and swirl With the boys. She's trying Everything she knows. As for Master PADDY, Whoop there! Down he goes! Bumped a bit, poor laddy! What then? At this game Who would be a stopper Just because he came Now and then a cropper? Up and on once more, Chance by courage foiling! Hark the jovial roar! "Keep the Pot a-boiling!"

Father Christmas, hail! Sure 'tis flagrant folly Now to rave and rail. Truce--beneath your holly! Darkest England waits Care Co-operative; Mood that moat elates Is to-day--the dative! You need not doubt, You're no "Grecian" giver. Many "cold without," Foodless, hopeless, shiver; Many a poor man's pot, Even at your season, With no pudding hot Bubbles. Is't not treason Unto more than kings To waste time in fighting Whilst such crooked things Stand in need of righting? In the name of those Starving, suffering, toiling, Let our quarrels close-- "Keep the Pot a-boiling!"

* * * * *

FIGHTING THE FOG.

(_A SEASONABLE HINT._)

Sir,--I have read several letters in the papers complaining of thefog, and asking not only how one is to protect the system from itsinjurious effects, but also soliciting information as to how one isto safeguard oneself against street accident, if obliged to quit thepremises during its prevalence. The first is simple enough. Get acomplete diver's suit, put it on, and let an attendant follow you witha pumping apparatus, for the purpose of supplying you with the fumesof hydro-bi-carbon (DAFFY's solution) in a state of suspension. Thiswill considerably assist the breathing. To avoid street accident,wear an electric (SWANN) light, five hundred candle power, on the topof your hat, round the brim of which, in case of accident, you havearranged a dozen lighted night-lights. Strap a Duplex Reflector on toyour back, and fasten a Hansom cab-lamp on to each knee. Let a coupleof boys, bearing flaming links, and beating dinner-gongs, clear theway for you, while you yourself shout "_Here comes the Bogie Man!_"or any other appropriate ditty, through a fog-horn, which you carryin one hand, while you spring a policeman's ancient rattle vigorouslywith the other. You will, if thus provided, get along capitally.Be careful at crossings, for your sudden appearance might possiblyfrighten an omnibus horse or two, and cause trouble.

I haven't tried all this _yet_ myself, but a friend of mine at ColneyHatch assures me he has, and found it a great success. As I think,therefore, it may prove a boon to your numerous readers, I place it atyour disposal with much pleasure, and have the honour to be, Sir,

Your obedient servant, A CAUTIOUS CARD.

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[Illustration: "KEEP THE POT A-BOILING!"]

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THE CHRISTMAS COLLEGE FAIRY.

CHAPTER I.--_THE STRANGE VISITOR._

On the evening of the 24th of December, 1874, the Senior Dean of St.Michael's, the Reverend HENRY BURROWES, was sitting in his comfortablerooms in the Great Court. He had, for reasons of his own, decidedto spend the Christmas Vacation in Cambridge. His bed-maker, Mrs.JOGGINS, had entered a mild protest, but it been unavailing. Mr.BURROWES was a man of forbidding aspect and of unbending character.During the five years that he had held his office, he had enforceddiscipline at the point of the bayonet, as it were, and he boastedwith pardonable pride that he had broken the spirit of the haughtiestand least tractable of the Undergraduates. Everybody had been gated ateight o'clock. Many had been sent down. Tears and denunciations werealike unavailing. The ruthless Dean had pursued his course withoutflinching. A very mild reading-man had attempted his life by droppinga Liddell and Scott on to his head from a first-floor room. Thisabandoned youth had been screened by his comrades, and had ultimatelyescaped in spite of the efforts of the justly incensed Dean.

[Illustration]

It was nine o'clock. The bells at St. Mary's were ringing thecustomary curfew. The Dean was seated before the fire in hisarm-chair. An open book, a treatise on some abstruse question of puremathematics, lay on the table by his side. He was meditating on hispast exploits, and planning new punishments. But somehow there wasa strange sinking at his heart. What could be the reason of it? Thedinner in hall had been of the usual moderate excellence, he hadonly drunk a bottle and a half of claret. "Pshaw," he said, "this isfolly. I have not been severe enough. Conscience reproaches me. I amunmanned." He rose and paced about the room. At this moment his dooropened, and the familiar figure of Mrs. JOGGINS appeared.

"No, Mrs. JOGGINS," said the Dean. "I did not call. Are you not ratherlate in College? Is it usual for you to stay--" Here the Dean stoppedabruptly. He rubbed his eyes, and clung to his book-shelf for support.His hair stood on end, and his knees shook. In fact he expressedterror in a thoroughly orthodox manner, for he had suddenly becomeaware that there was in the face of Mrs. JOGGINS a strange radiance,and that two gossamer wings had suddenly appeared on her back in placeof the substantial shawl she was wont to wear. Mr. BURROWES gazed * ** then consciousness forsook him.

CHAPTER II.--_A STRANGE STORY._

How long he lay he knew not. When he came to himself it was broaddaylight, and he was walking through the Great Court hand in hand withMrs. JOGGINS.

"See," she said, "there is Dr. GORGIAS," and sure enough there stoodthe redoubtable Master in the centre of one of the grass-plots in abright red dressing-gown and slippers, with an embroidered smoking-capupon his head. He was engaged in distributing crumbs to a congregationof sparrows and thrushes and redbreasts.

"Good morning, BURROWES," said the Master; "how's your poor feet? Canyou catch. One, two, three, heads!" and with that he flung the crusthe held in his hand at the astounded Dean, and landed him fairly onthe right cheek. Dr. GORGIAS then executed a pirouette, kissed hishand to Mrs. JOGGINS, and disappeared into the Master's lodge. "Fromthis good man," said Mrs. JOGGINS to the Dean, "you may learn alesson of unassuming kindness; but time presses; we must hurry on. Byvirtue of the power vested in me by the Queen of the Fairies, whoseambassadress I am in Grantaford, I have summoned back to St. Michael'sall the Undergraduates. You shall see them." In vain the miserableDean protested that he had seen too much of them. The Fairy JOGGINSwas inexorable. She waved her wand, a yard of butter congealed tothe hardness of oak by the frosty morning, and in a moment the Courtwas filled with Undergraduates. They were all smoking, and suddenlythe Dean became aware that he too had a lighted cigar in his mouth,and was puffing at it. At the same moment he discovered that hewas wearing a disgracefully battered college-cap, and a brilliant"blazer," lately invented by a rowdy set as the badge of theirdining Club. He shuddered, but it was useless. He put his hand in hiscoat-pocket. It contained a bottle of champagne.

The Undergraduates now formed a procession and began to defile pasthim. "Smoking in the Court, half-a-crown," said one, in a dreadfulvoice. "Mr. BURROWES irregular in his attendance at Chapel, gated ateight," roared a second. "Mr. BURROWES persistently disorderly, sentdown for the term," shouted a third; and then they all began to caperround the hapless man whom the Fairy Queen had betrayed into theirpower. They taunted him and reviled him. "You have mined our homes,poisoned our fathers' happiness, undermined the trusting confidence ofour mothers. You have been a bad man. You must perish!" and thus thedreadful chorus went on while the Dean stood stupidly in the centre ofthe throng puffing violently at one of the largest cigars ever seen inSt. Michael's. At last the Fairy waved her wand again, and in a momentthe shouts ceased and the crowd disappeared. "See," she said, "theresult of intemperate disciplinarian zeal!" But Mr. BURROWES neitherheard nor heeded. He had collapsed.

CHAPTER III.--_WIDE AWAKE!_

It was Christmas Morning. Mr. BURROWES was still sitting in his chairbefore the fire-place, but the fire was out. He woke and looked round.Mrs. JOGGINS had just come in, and was staring at him in surprise.

"Lor, Sir," she said, "what a turn you give me, sitting here in yourkeepin'-room. I never knew you to do sech a thing before as sit upall night." But the Dean had fallen on his knees before her, and wasbabbling out prayers for pardon and vows of reform.

CHAPTER IV.--_A CHRISTMAS MORN._

In the following term the whole system of College management waschanged. Mr. BURROWES from a tyrant turned into the most amiable ofmen. The Undergraduates became idyllic. Even Dr. GORGIAS submittedto the benign influence of the Fairy JOGGINS. But it is noticeablethat Mr. BURROWES who still resides at St. Michael's, objects to anymention of the Christmas of 1874. This is the only exception to hisuniversal amiability.

I knew, I knew it would not last-- 'Twas hard, 'twas hopeful, but 'tis past. Ah! ever thus, from boyhood's hour, I've seen my fondest hopes decay. I never trusted Jack Frost's power, But Jack Frost did my trust betray. I never bought a pair of skates On Friday--I am in the law-- But, ere I started with my mates On Saturday, 'twas sure to thaw! Now, too--the prospect seemed divine-- They skated yesterday, I knew, And now, just as I'm going to dine, The sun comes out, the skies grow blue, Ere we at Wimbledon can meet, Those horrid gaps!--that treacherous sludge! I shall not get one skimmer fleet. After my long and sloppy trudge. No go! One more lost Saturday! To skating's joys I'm still a stranger. I sit and curse the melting ray, In which my hopes all melt away-- It means soft ice, chill slop, and--"Danger!!!"

Now DINARZADE did not like this flippant tone of address. He was, ashas been recorded by SHAHSTEAD (a gentleman of whose patronage he isproud) not a man you may take liberties with. For SCHEHERAZADE, takingmean advantage of a French agglomeration of letters which did notrepresent his name, to hail him as "JACK" was characteristic, andtherefore undesirable. But, as everybody knows, DINARZADE, at theapproach of each successive morning, was obliged to make this appealto his brother, in order to circumvent the bloodthirsty designs of theSultan (for particulars of which, see original). So he dissembled hisanger, and SCHEHERAZADE proceeded to tell the History of the SecondOld Man, and the Black Dog.

"Sire," he said, "whilst the Merchant and the First Old Man, whoconducted the hind, went their way, there arrived another Old Man, wholed a black dog, and who forthwith proceeded to relate his history.'We were, you know,' he remarked, leaning wearily on his staff, 'twobrothers, this dog that you see, and myself. In early life we were nottied by those bonds of affection that should exist in family circles.In fact, on one occasion, I had to put my brother in prison. He hadnot at that period assumed the four-footed condition in which you nowbehold him. He walked about on two legs, like the rest of us, ate anddrank, made love, and made merry. After he had been in prison sometime, successful interposition was made on his behalf by a friendnamed Le Sieur O'SHAY. But that (as RUDYARD KIPPLING observes) isanother story.

"'Some time after my brother came to me and proposed to make a longjourney involving close business relations with him. I at firstdeclined his proposition. "You have been in business some time," Isaid to him, "and what have you gained? Who is to assure me that Ishall be more fortunate than you?"

"'In vain he encouraged me to stake my fortune with him, but hereturned so often to the charge that, having through six yearsconstantly resisted his solicitations, I at last yielded. I realisedall my property, took my brother into partnership, stocked our vesselexclusively with Home Rule goods, and set out on our voyage.

"'We arrived safely, did a great stroke of business with our wares,bought those of the country, and set forth on our return voyage. Justas we were ready to re-embark I met on the seashore a lady, not atall bad looking, but very meanly dressed. She approached me, kissedmy hand, begged me to take her for my wife, and conduct her to my homeacross the sea. This may seem to our friend JACK MORLEY a somewhathasty proceeding. JACK is a philosopher, but I am the Second Old Man,a mere child of nature. I took her into Bond Street, and bought her anew dress, and, having duly married her, we set sail. Perhaps I shouldadd that her maiden name was IRELAND.

"'My brother and she got on very well at first, and he loudlyprofessed to share the esteem and (considering she was my wife I maysay) affection with which I regarded her. But suddenly a change cameover him. One night whilst we slept he threw us overboard into thesea. My wife turned out to be a fairy, and, as you may imagine, shewas not born to be drowned. As for me I was, so to speak, on my way tobe as dead as a herring, when she seized me and transported me to anisle. When it was day the fairy said to me, "You see, my husband, thatin saving your life I have not badly recompensed you. I am, as youdoubtless begin to suspect, a fairy. Finding myself on the seashorewhen you were about to embark, I felt strongly drawn towards you.Desiring to prove the goodness of your heart, I presented myself inthe disguise with which you are familiar. It was, I admit, a trifleshabby. You have used me generously. I am delighted to have foundoccasion to repay you; but as for that brother of yours, I am death onhim. I shall never rest till I have taken his life."

"'"I beg you to do no such thing," I said.

"'"I will sink his vessel and send him to the bottom of the sea," sheinsisted.

"'After much endeavour I managed to appease her wrath, and inthe twinkling of an eye, before you could say "Ali Baba!" she hadtransported me back to my own house. On entering I found this blackdog who stared strangely at me.

"'"My husband," said the fairy, "do not be surprised to see thisdog here; he is your brother. He has behaved in a most shocking waytowards you. He has maligned you, misrepresented you, threatened you,even called you a Grand Old Spider. I have condemned him to remain inthis state till you have concluded your little transactions in HomeRule."

"'"But my dear!--" I said.'"

At these words SCHEHERAZADE, remarking that it was daybreak, ceased topursue his narrative.

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TO A MODERN MINSTREL.

(_AFTER KINGSLEY._)

Be puff'd, dear boy, and let who will be clever; Write catchy things, not good ones, all day long, And make a name to-day, and not for ever, By one weak song.

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